


194 - Pub Quiz & Ex-Boyfriend Bondy

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 20:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17393270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompts “the reader starts dating Van and when she meets the guys she realises one of them is Johnny Bond a.k.a. the guy she had several hook ups in the past? But like she wants to make things right with Van so tells him that they hooked up only once so Bondy is like mm whatcha doin😏 and teases her?” and “one where the reader and the guys are playing a pub quiz?”





	194 - Pub Quiz & Ex-Boyfriend Bondy

You'd never been good at puzzles. Colouring in pages? Sign you up. Find a word? Easy. Crosswords? No. The one with the numbers in the boxes and something about Maths? Forget about it. Brain teasers... Riddles.. Anything that required separate pieces of information to merge and form one final product? Nahhhhhh, fam. Not a chance. Therefore, you often found yourself shocked when people you knew, knew other people you knew. The links became so obvious after, but the puzzle of human connectedness was always a mystery. It came as a surprise then, that you knew some of Van's friends. You did blame yourself a little for not working that one out. How many Goddamn Johnny Bonds could there be in the world? 

To be fair, you knew him as John, and years ago before he bulked up and joined Catfish. As he sat across the pub table from you though, it was evident that he remembered you. He was smirking already. 

"Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, this one's Bondy, and that's Bob. You know Larry," Van introduced. 

Bondy's eyes watched you, waiting to see if you'd say anything. How would you even bring that up? Oh, actually, I know this one because a couple years back we used to have a lot of drunken one night stands. It didn't seem like a brilliant start to fitting into Van's life easily.

"Hi," you said instead of the truth. 

Wine and pub meals were always good. They'd be music coming from somewhere, the room would be warm, and the chairs were always comfortable and designed to keep you in place. Van attracted good people, so all the barkeepers and tenders dished out food and drink like they had to pay Van for existing somehow. You got along well with Larry, mostly because he didn't do or say much to cause any offence. He mostly just followed Van around, or go for walks with his dog Lulu. Lulu hated the walks, so sometimes he took Mary instead. Bob was beautiful and you loved him straight away. Every time you asked a question with an obvious answer or got confused too quickly, he'd gently explain things to you. It wasn't patronising, but it was done with humour. They all made you feel comfortable, but Bondy was an elephant at the table and any chance of feeling snug and secure was gone as soon as he saw you sit down. 

"So, how'd you guys meet again?" Bondy asked. 

"You know that Broken Hands show I went to? I met her there. She was dancin' all mad," 

"A couple of drinks later and that was that?" he continued to press. 

"No. We weren't drinking," you corrected, looking to Van. He shook his head and smiled. 

"Don't need booze to know you're beautiful," he said. 

The boys all pretended to be disgusted. Glancing over at Bondy, you could see he was messing with you. You started to avoid direct conversation with him and dodged any questions about relationships and sex. 

The guys all went out the front for a smoke while you went to the bathroom. Walking back into the bar, Bondy was waiting for you by the door. 

"Forgot my phone," he said, holding it up. "Left on the chair," 

"Okay," you replied, going to walk past him. He grabbed your arm, but you ripped it away from him. He quickly put his hands up in surrender. 

"Sorry. Not tryna' start nothing," 

"Then what are you doing?"

"Just... Are... you going to tell him? Or should I?" he asked. "Obviously he has to know." 

Obviously. For the entire duration of the evening, you'd just lived in a lalaland where it wasn't at all clear that Van needed to know. Why would he? As soon as Bondy said differently, the truth of the matter became defined. Yeah, Van had to know. 

"I'll tell him," you replied, walking away. 

Outside you quickly found your place under Van's arm. 

"You right, babe?" he asked. You nodded. "See John in there? Went to get his phone," 

"Ah, yeah. He'll be out in a sec," you replied, trying to sound disinterested. 

As they smoked you stayed quiet, trying to write the script in your head for how you'd explain to Van the situation. Only speaking when he threw his cigarette butt on the ground and you made him pick it up and put it in the bin, Van was clearly worried.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked as everyone else walked back into the pub.

"Um. Yeah. Just…" You could feel your heart thumping hard against your rib cage. Wanting to cry, or maybe run, your head fizzed and popped with a million different potential endings to the conversation. You just loved Van too much to not tell him. Still early in the relationship, it wasn't worth keeping any secrets; let alone one that big. "I… I know Bondy…"

"Like, you've met him before?"

"Yeah… Years ago, when he was still in Detroit. We used to hang out with the same people a lot." You'd paused to work out how to say it, but Van misinterpreted it as the end of the story.

"Did ya just work that out?" he asked, clearly not any better at puzzles than you.

"No… Um… We… We slept together. A few times," you blurted out. Van's face was expressionless. "But like, it didn't mean anything and we didn't like each other like that and we were always drunk and I didn't know he was your friend and I promise nothing-" but your frantic string of words was interrupted by Van's laughter. You watched him physically bend over, clutching his stomach. "Why… why are you laughing?"

"Such a fuckin' small world, yeah? Fuck, that is funny," he replied, shaking his head.

"You're not mad?"

He stopped laughing and looked at you, suddenly concerned. "Babe, I know we've only been datin' for a little bit, but I dead love you. Think we're good together. You're perfect. Why would who you used to get all sleazy with change any of that?"

His love was a revolution. It transformed everything, and anything that came before it seemed so bad in hindsight. All the other boys you'd dated would have been jealous or felt threatened. They would have questioned why you were sleeping around. Not Van. He just pulled you into a hug and took you back inside. He didn’t want to miss the start of the pub quiz.

As soon as you were all back at the table, fresh wine poured, Bondy knew that you'd told Van. They looked at each other, faces trying to hold back stupid fucking grins.

"Does she still do that little squeaky thing?" Bondy asked. Bob and Larry looked from him to Van confused. Van sniggered and reached out to ruffle your hair.

"Sure fuckin' does,"

"Oh my God," you whispered, covering your face with your hands.

"What's happening?" Larry asked.

"Y/N and Bondy used to fuck,"

"Oh, my actual God," you said, standing to go do something. You walked to the bar, anything to escape having to hear Van and Bondy fill each other in.

You returned with a couple of minutes later with bowls of pretzels and nuts.

"We named the group," Van told you, holding up the quiz sheet. You had to squint to read his messy writing.

"Polly and Andry? I don't get it. Who are they? Is Andry even a name?" you asked. Bondy and Larry laughed hard, and even Bob tried to not smile. You pouted and looked at Van. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and leant over to kiss your cheek.

"I didn't get it either, don't worry. Polyandry," Van said. The word meant nothing.

"When a woman has more than one husband," Bondy continued. "So, if ya don't like the name, Y/N, only got yourself to blame,"

"What? As if. I’m not to blame for anything. You were the one that came up to me first, mate. Also, I’m not even dating you both... so that doesn’t even make sense?" you replied. Van laughed.

"What you laughing at? Was she falling all over you, or did you follow her around all night too?" Bondy asked him.

"Don't matter. Who's she here with now?"

"Can we maybe… play… the quiz… We already missed the first question," Bob said, slowly pulling the quiz paper away from you and Van so he could take over.

"The answer was Australia," Bondy told him. You all looked at him. "What country did the cooking competition show Masterchef originate in? Australia. Fuckin' write it."

He was wrong, but every team in the pub would write the same answer. Between the four of them, they excelled in almost every category. The only thing they didn't know much about was current popular culture.

"Who the fuck is Black Chyna?" Larry asked.

"Sounds like a wrestler," Van said, drinking more wine. His cheeks had gone rosy from it.

"She's married to the boy Kardashian, I think," you answered.

You weren't too good at quizzes, but every now and then you could help. Which U.S. state is on the Jack Daniels bottle? In The Simpsons, what is Moe's pet cat named? Your head may not have pieced things together, but sometimes random facts stuck. Every time you could help, Van looked at you with a stupid grin, his baby fangs all pointy and weird. So proud.

"Fuck, Van, get your shit together," Bondy said when Van couldn't remember the answer to two football related questions in a row. Larry filled in the blanks. "Keep losing us points and Y/N will have to trade you in, mate,"

"What? For you? Buddy, I am the fuckin' upgrade."

When the quiz was over and the points were tallied, Polly and Andry came second. Bob was happy with that, and Larry and Bondy seemed completely indifferent. Van flicked a bottle cap across the table.

"You sulking, mate?" Bondy asked, picking the cap off the floor and putting it in the pile with the rest.

"Don't like losing,"

"Second is good though!" you told him, knocking your shoulder into his.

"Van's not used to not getting what he wants," Larry said, standing. "Another round?"

Bob and Bondy both nodded. Larry looked to Van.

"Think we might head off actually,"

"You going home to cry 'bout a pub quiz?" Bob asked.

"Or is this 'cause me and your missus have a thing?" Bondy added, grinning.

"Please don't call me that," you said. "And had. Had a thing. We don't have a thing,"

"We could," he replied quickly. Van snorted and stood up.

"Yeah right. This one is way too good to lose. And I'm not going home to cry about anything. Just bored of sitting around with you lot when I could be in bed with Y/N and-"

"Sleeping," you finished for him. Van smirked and nodded. You stood up and let Van put his jacket around you.

You hugged them all goodbye. Bondy held you close and tight, his body pushing into yours. You couldn't see it, but his eyes were open and stuck on Van, waiting for him to react. Van didn’t give two fucks about it. When you squirmed in his arms, trying to free yourself, they both laughed.

You thought maybe as soon as you got home Van would throw you down on the bed and prove he was worth more than Bondy. Instead, he put the kettle on and sat on the lounge with his feet up on the table.

"Boots, Van," you reminded him. He kicked them off, not looking up from the news.

You disappeared to take your makeup off and change into track pants and any t-shirt you could find; it didn't matter if it belonged to you, Van or Larry. You brought tea to him and sat on the other side of the couch.

"Closer," he said, but his distracted voice came out in a whisper. He'd reached an arm out for you and shook his hand. When you didn't move, he looked away from the television screen. "Babe, closer," he said more clearly. You shuffled over and let him pull you into his lap. Resting your head on his chest, you closed your eyes and had a moment of quiet. "The world is so fucked," he muttered, then changed the channel. "Whaddaya wanna watch?"

"Don't mind."

You looked up and watched him chew his lip. One hand on the remote, the other wrapped around you, his fingers moving gently over your skin, he was deep in thought about something.

"Vaniel?" you asked him. He smirked.

"Why do ya call me that all the time? Don't even make sense,"

"I don’t know. Don't know where it came from… Are you okay?"

"With being called Vaniel?"

"No, you got no choice about that. I mean… I don't know. About everything. You're being very quiet."

Van sighed deeply and melted into the couch, taking you with him. He ran a hand through your hair and looked at you carefully. It was hard to read his expression.

"I was thinkin' about that Cupcake Wars show," he said.

"What?"

"Yeah. I watched it the other day 'cause I thought it was the one you always watch, but it's not the same 'cause they make cupcakes, not proper big ones. Different host too. It's just not as good as the cake one. The cupcakes never look that good, I don't reckon," he explained. His quietness had been about the merits of a cupcake cooking competition show. You laughed, nodding. He was right. Cupcake Wars was not as good as Cake Wars.

"So… You honestly don't care about Bondy?"

"Course I care about him, but I don't care that you guys used to fuck. Old news, yeah? And he has flirted with every single girl I've ever let them meet. So that's nothing new," he said with a shrug.

"Okay. Good. 'Cause I really, really like you,"

"Last time you said you love me. Do you only really, really like me because I came second?" he asked, putting on a fake serious face.

"Oh, yeah, for sure. I'm even thinking maybe we should take a break… see other people…"

"You could always go back to Bondy,"

"Yeah… never did go on a date, so maybe I should give him a shot… Do you think he'd not wear a hat if I asked real nice?”

Van laughed, shaking his head. "Not a fucking chance. He's a mad man and does what he wants. Lights smokes with a fuckin’ blow torch type of crazy. Ain't nobody gonna tell him what to wear. Had a few people try for photoshoots and stuff. Never ends well,"

"Guess I'm stuck with you then, huh?"

"Guess so, babe. But I promise I'll be good to you," he replied with an honesty in a voice that was warm and rich and honey and love.

"I know," you whispered back, nuzzling against his chest.

When every channel ran out of things that were entertaining, Van piggybacked you to his bed. He dropped you onto it unceremoniously. You pulled your track pants off and got under the covers. They were warm.

"You turned the electric blanket on!" you called to Van across the hallway. He walked in, brushing his teeth. He nodded and when you gave him the thumbs up he did it back.

He got into bed smelling like toothpaste and pulled you close.

"Just gotta meet Benj, then you've got the whole band," he said.

"Then I can decide who is my favourite,"

"Uh… Me. I'm your favourite," he replied.

"Obviously. But like, out of them," you said. He laughed.

"Don't tell them you're picking favourites,"

"I won't. So far it's Bob then Larry then Bondy."

Van nodded, smiling. Of course he'd always be your favourite. He was your favourite everything. Favourite boyfriend. Favourite singer and guitarist. Favourite dog owner, best friend, person. All wrapped up together, one of his arms under your pillow and the other over you, snaked under your shirt, hand running lines up and down your back, you felt all the good things all at once. The satisfaction of a completed puzzle. The warmth of a good pub. The love of a trusting and honest group of friends. Van could so easily emulate all those experience, just by being himself. Just by loving you for who you are. Just by little touches and secret winks and unrequested cups of tea and did you get home safe text messages.

Van kissed the top of your head and held you tighter. You squeaked in reaction, and he laughed quietly through his nose and kissed you again. Asleep before he even loosened the grip, you dreamed of a cat named Mr Snookums driving to Tennessee to buy a hat just like Bondy's.


End file.
